


kia kaua e mate ā-wheke, me mate ururoa

by Skyuni123



Series: One-Off Media Ficlets [1]
Category: The Meg
Genre: Friendship, Gen, I don't know if cliff curtis was playing a kiwi in this film, Male Friendship, Maori Character, New Zealand, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Reunions, TALK TO YOUR BROS, he is now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 17:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Jonas, Mac, PTSD, and a scuba-diving shop in the north of New Zealand.(Recovery. And beer.)





	kia kaua e mate ā-wheke, me mate ururoa

Jonas doesn’t realise how scared he’d been until he’s had a chance to sleep it off.

Waking up after all the shit went down is something like dragging the sub up from 10,000 ft - there’s a lot of screaming, bleeding, and it feels like his head’s about to explode. Every muscle aches, and every bit of his skin is bruised.

But hey, he’s alive.

That’s more than can be said for the shark.

  
  


Recovery takes time. It’s four months of panicking every time he sets foot in a body of water that’s deeper than his head, four months of waking up to the phantom feeling of a shark headbutting him, four months of physical therapy, pills and darkness.

That’s what ruined his relationship with Suyin, in the end. Despite the death of her father, she was still drawn to the sea and the mysteries it held.

He couldn’t set foot in it.

 

Not then.

Maybe in the future, but certainly not then.

 

They’re still friends, though. Him and her and Meiying. He doesn’t think anything could ever change that.

  
  


After they dredge the bottom of Sanya Bay, the official death count comes out to 68. Toshi, The Wall, Heller, Dr Zhang, Morris, sixty-one civilians, and two megalodons.

 

It could be worse.

 

Pre-history is a little thin on the destructive capabilities of giant, world-destroying sharks, but he presumes they’re usually a little bit higher than 66 people.

Even so.

 

He attends funerals, cries tears he doesn’t feel, is hailed as both a hero and villain by newspapers the world round, and heals.

 

It could be worse.

 

It could be  _ worse. _

 

Hundreds of people try to sue him - fortunately, Jack Morris’ estate has a handle on deflecting those - and in the end it all gets to be a bit much.

 

So, he takes off. Treks his way down to New Zealand, and sets up shop as a dive instructor up in the north of the country. It’s not much - barely more than teaching jaded tourists how not to screw up when they panic underwater - but it quickly becomes a refuge from the media and a home away from home.

It’s not terrible.

It could be worse. The people like him, there’s good beer and conversation, and he makes enough to pay his way. There’s also absolutely no shortage of young, beautiful people willing to wipe the megalodon from his mind.

 

Which is when Mac turns up and blows the whole thing straight to hell.

  
  


It’s mid-summer. He’s replacing one of the valves on one of his masks, back to the entrance of his shop, when the bell over the door rings. “One minute, yeah? Just in the middle of something.”

 

“You sure made it hard to find you, brother.”

 

Shit.

Mac?

He plasters on a smile he doesn’t really feel and turns around. Sure enough, it is him. A little scruffier, a little more rough-around-the-edges than he had been on the research platform, but still Mac.

“Mac.” He breathes, genuinely a little taken aback. He’d missed him - obviously - many years of friendship did that to a man, but even so. “You came all this way, for me?”

 

Mac grins. It’s a nice look. “Well, I was on my way to visit my whānau back home but I thought I’d stop in on my way there. You certainly didn’t make yourself easy to find.”

 

“That was for the benefit of the press, not for you, mate.” And he crosses the shop floor and pulls Mac into a hug.

It feels good. It feels right in a way that he hasn’t felt for months. He’s not one to get overly sentimental, but the embrace seems to complete his home in the way that he’s not felt since the research station.

 

“Even so. If I’d known you were practically camping in my backyard I would have come by sooner!”

 

“Sure you would have.” He lets go, ignoring the wrongness that creeps under his skin at the action and gestures towards the fridge. “Want a beer?

 

“Depends. You still drinking that cheap piss, bro?”

 

“It’s not cheap piss.” He moves over to the fridge, and pulls out two cans of Garage Project’s [ _Hāpi Daze_](https://garageproject.co.nz/products/hapi-daze). “And no.”

 

He tosses a can to Mac, who inspects it with a critical eye. “Craft beer? You’ve turned into a right wanker in my absence.”

 

“Yeah, shut up.”

 

“You need me around to keep you straight.”

 

Jonas scoffs, and cracks open his can. “You couldn’t keep anyone straight if you tried, Mac - I know you. You’ve got a dirtier history than me.”

 

Mac shrugs, and settles against the side of a cabinet. “Maybe so. How are you doing anyway, brother?”

 

“Doin’ fine.” The beer is hoppy, vaguely-citrus against his tongue. It’s not his favourite of the brand, but it does its job.

 

“That’s obviously a lie.”

 

It is. And it isn’t. That’s not the point. “I’m not going to get all touchy-feely about my emotions with you, Mac - don’t get your hopes up.”

 

Mac shrugs again, and cracks open his beer. “I’m not asking you to. Suyin was worried, and so was I. You left in a hurry and didn’t even give us a phone number to call you. She had all the reason to think that you were dead.”

 

He scoffs and swallows back any nausea around the subject with a swig of beer. He won’t feel bad about it. He won’t. “Dead? Did you two think I’d off myself? Come on, Mac, you know me.”

 

“You were depressed and injured, Jonas, I wasn’t sure what to feel!” Mac is irritated now, it’s obvious in his stature. He holds himself differently when he’s mad. “Even a phone call would have been simple enough to let us know that you weren’t dead. One call.  _ Atua,  _ man, it took two months for Jaxx to find you.”

 

Well. He supposes he can’t dispute that.

Shit.

It’s weird, suddenly. His body aches more than it had in months. They’re phantom pains, obviously not real, but it’s a reminder. The shark attack had affected everyone, not just him.

 

He sags, back against the table behind him.

 

Mac’s eyes flicker to where he’s sitting on the desk, but he doesn’t say anything. 

 

Jonas is pretty sure sitting on tables is a thing that he shouldn't be doing in this country - but the sudden weariness in his bones makes it hard to move.  “I’m sorry. Honestly. I - just - it was so dark in my head back there. And the press were up my arse - I couldn’t sleep through the night - I just couldn’t stay around any longer. You understand?” It feels like hysteria - this. It feels like the split-second of panic he gets when he’s diving when something goes wrong and instinct hasn’t kicked in yet.

It doesn’t feel good.

 

Mac puts his beer down on top of a shelf. “You know we would have helped you through those things, right, brother? You didn’t have to pull away.”

 

“...I know.”

 

“I’m not going to get sappy here, because I know you hate that, but I’m here for you. Always.” And Mac looks at him so earnestly, and kindly, that that’s when the dam breaks.

 

He’s not sure how he ends up on the floor, and he’s not sure if he cries. He’ll never tell.

Just - Mac is there. Holding him. Talking him through it. And it’s anchoring in a way that he’s not felt for months.

God, he hates this and he loves this and he doesn’t know what he’ll do when Mac leaves.

It’s horribly cliched in its simplicity, but he’s missed Mac. He’s missed his real life, despite the danger and violence and blood and death.

 

He’s missed the feeling of being around someone who knows him for who he is and doesn’t care.

He’s missed this.

  
  
_Fin._

_(You know, like the shark.)_

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


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